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<title>Aging Is quite A Horrible Thing, Indeed by Skimblyshanks (The_gadabout_gander)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242521">Aging Is quite A Horrible Thing, Indeed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_gadabout_gander/pseuds/Skimblyshanks'>Skimblyshanks (The_gadabout_gander)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asparagus and Gus are two different Cats, Asparagus and Skimble are brothers, Asparagus is Junior and Gus is Gus, Etcetera and Electra are twins, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gus is sad about getting older, Gus knows M&amp;R's names, Gus' mate is dead, Gus-centric, Italics represent a flashback, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer are adopted, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer are twins, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Canon, and his family not visiting, so hats off to you if you know what he's referencing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_gadabout_gander/pseuds/Skimblyshanks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's The Theatre Cat's birthday, and all he wants is a round of drinks with his friends at the pub. However, his family have other ideas...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asparagus &amp; Electra (Cats), Asparagus/Jellylorum (Cats), Electra &amp; Etcetera (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Asparagus (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Etcetera (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Jellylorum (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Mungojerrie (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Rumpleteazer (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat &amp; Skimbleshanks (Cats), Gus the Theatre Cat/Original Female Character(s), Mungojerrie &amp; Rumpleteazer (Cats), Skimbleshanks &amp; Asparagus (Cats), Skimbleshanks &amp; Mungojerrie (Cats), Skimbleshanks &amp; Rumpleteazer (Cats)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aging Is quite A Horrible Thing, Indeed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! I haven't written an actual attempt at a Fic in forever, so this was fun practice! Thank you, anon, for requesting something for Gus!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <span>Life had been slow the past few years for the Theatre Cat; his vision was too far gone to see any pests, and his paws too prone to shake if he were to hunt. This had translated to the stage as well, and he knew his acting days were behind him. Perhaps that wouldn't sting as hard if there was someone to step up; Jellylorum was to be that cat, once, but the humans were scarce to let her out from home after she'd had her litter. Her kittens? As much as Gus loved his granddaughters, they were not receiving the proper training that such a position required, not in this day and age. And his own sons? Well, one already had a job, and the one in front of him? The one named for him? He...well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> take over, but he was a notorious homebody, to the point the humans had no need to get him a collar. Of course there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>those two</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Gus wouldn't trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a dry paintbrush. In truth, he couldn't help but think that aging was quite a horrible thing, indeed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I'm sitting here, away from my mates, away from the theatre, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s your birthday, dad,” Junior replied, moving to the piano in the drawing room. “And birthdays should be spent with family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to be a curmudgeon, but at least all my mates are actually at the bar. Here we've got five-eighths of you all running behind schedule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Jellylorum rose to the old tom’s side, resting her paws on his shoulders reassuringly. “I'm sure they'll be here soon, Dad,” she said, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He seemed unconvinced, but returned with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been ages since their unit was actually all in one place together. There was the Ball, yes, but they were all off in their own corners, and Gus could never stay for too long. As much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling lonelier and lonelier. Most of his days were spent in the theatre, lazing on the ground or atop the prop table. His family seemed a distant chain of islands, being pushed farther and farther away. And he knew he wasn't helping matters himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision and his paws were their own problems; sure, they were inconvenient, but one expected those facilities to decline with age. No, it was his mind, he knew it was. Things were getting harder and harder to recall. No longer the great orator of seventy speeches, he could hardly recall what he had been given for breakfast that morning. His own sons blurred together at times, his grandchildren disappeared from his recollection entirely from time to time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was so much frailer than he ever thought he could be. But then again, did anyone ever expect to be so weak a burst of wind could mean an emergency trip to the veterinary? Perhaps Deuteronomy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost in thought, Gus didn't hear the squeaks and squeals from behind him, and all four grandchildren barely avoided running into him as they skidded to a halt. Electra called out to her grandfather, a warning drowned in louder squeals and laughter as the Calico twins drove Etcetera across the drawing room, pushing the young she-cat under the piano bench. She gave them a playful hiss and scratch, while Electra turned to her father that she might have an audience for her whinging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, the silent and spacious drawing room was flooded with noise and bodies, and Gus could not help an astonished scoff. It was more of a wheeze than anything, but it shortly developed into louder, heartier laughs. The family all looked up from their respective engagements, Jellylorum and Junior exchanging relieved smiles. However, one family member was still missing. “Dodger, Charley,” Gus called out, giving the calicos an out from Jellylorum’s scolding as they sat attentively in front of the old actor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Grampa Gus?” They tilted their heads, asking in singsong, all precociously synchronized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your pop, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twins exchanged an unsure look, and they strained over their ragged grandfather to see out the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We're...not sure, Grampa Gus?” Teazer offered, with a confused look and an unsure grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was behind us earlier,honest, Grampa!” Jerrie added, tilting his head at whatever was going on outside the Drawing Room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Great. More secrets. It was like no one wanted Gus to know anything in this family. He huffed, standing up shakily to sit on the Morris chair across from the piano. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he really that difficult these days that his own children couldn't be bothered to actually join the rest of the family on his birthday? Queenie would have knocked some sense into their boys nice and proper for trying something like this. Queenie would have...Queenie…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Have you ever considered expanding your audience,” the she-cat asked, with a twinkle in her eye. “I believe there's a real market to be found in other cats.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gus had stared then. How had he not thought of such a thing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And we can give free shows for the children,” she continued on, “and their parents, of course.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But where would we find a troupe?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Everywhere! However, I do know some particular cats with a flair for the dramatic. Want me to introduce you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...It was thanks to Queenie he'd even found the Jellicles, and in the Jellicles he found Jellylorum, and in Jellylorum he found a protege. But Queenie was dead, and the Junkyard was far, and his family had all moved on in different paths. Oh! What he wouldn't give to see her one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nearly thought he did, seeing the light chocolate tabby dragging a thick ream of paper into the room; the small cat looked almost spit and image of his mother. Junior hurried down to help split the load of papers, the pair dropping them on the table with two resounding </span>
  <b>thuds</b>
  <span>. Gus looked around frantically, only realizing moments after that the sound had come from paper hitting wood. His eyes locked on the tomcat fixing his collar the right way round, bell jingling as he turned the strap, trying to place a name and a history with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I'm late, dad,” the stranger said while sorting the papers, and Gus’ confusion deepened. He'd thought it might’ve been Queenie’s brother(but wait, no, he was dead too), or a nephew, maybe, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” The tabby’s green eyes were on him, now, glinting with concern, and his senses returned. How he could keep Junior from becoming an old poster in his mind, Gus didn't know, but it was even harder to keep Skimble from becoming his mother until he saw his eyes. Queenie’s eyes were brown and deep, like Junior’s. At his prime, Gus’ eyes had been a clear green like Skimble’s, even if they had now faded into a milky grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus reached out a shaky paw to be helped back down from the chair. Junior took it, and walked his father to the table, where Skimble proudly stood, the ream now divided into five stacks. The grandchildren had fallen quiet, watching the adults with varying degrees of interest. “What are these, then,” Gus croaked, unable to make out words from pictures from smudges of ink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They're yours and mum’s,” Skimble explained, gesturing to the four largest stacks, “these are the drafts, these are the compositions, the thumbnails, and the costume concepts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Junior and I found those ones,” Jellylorum added, coming to the table between her mate and his father. Skimble nodded quickly, a hurried acknowledgment before he moved on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this one,” he said, chest puffed slightly with pride, “is mine and Junior’s.” He pushed it forward, a wide smile on his lips. “All the things we made back when we were their age,” he laughed, pointing back to the kittens. “All that I could find, at least,” he muttered, as though there were more hidden somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We figured you'd like some of mum’s things,” Junior said softly, “especially since you mentioned it was getting a bit harder, to–to think about her, lately.” Junior sighed, and Skimble glanced at their father with a hint of sorrow. Junior continued, “Skimble and I also thought these old papers of ours would just be fun to have around. You don't have to read a page of any of this, dad, you don't have to acknowledge they exist, but we wanted you to have something over at the theatre, since we haven't been stopping by as much as we’d all like to. We thought it'd be—nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gus felt his cheeks getting damp, and reached with a shaky paw to wipe away at the tears. Jellylorum reached over to pull his paw back down before he could scratch his eyes, and he gently pulled her into a hug. She pulled in Junior, and for a moment it was just the three of them. This was quickly repaired, as four smaller bodies forced themselves into the embrace, and Skimble joined the hug on his father’s other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, dad,” the adults each said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Grampa Gus!” The kittens yelled in unison. Gus gave out a deep laugh at their enthusiasm, and the huddle was broken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, life had gone by slowly these past few years; Gus reckoned it'd move no faster for however many he had left. His vision was too bleary to read manuscripts or music, his paws shook too violently to play the piano. He struggled some days to tell his sons from their parents when in their prime, and the grandchildren could barely if ever sit through his stories when they came to visit. But all of that became less bitter, because Gus knew he had his family when it mattered. Jellylorum began frequenting the theatre again with their humans, and he began making trips back home with her. When both were at home, Skimble would sit beside him, pressed side to side, and they would exchange stories: one of the rails, the other of the stage. The grandchildren would stop by, either the theatre or when he was unoccupied at home, and drop off little trinkets: a tattered, thrown out hat and walking cane from Junior and Jellylorum’s girls; an off-puttingly well-maintained cravat and pair of gloves from Skimble’s little devils. When they all stopped by and when he got to feeling lonely, he made a habit of donning his eclectic, beloved new outfit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And even if he couldn't read them with his poorer eyes, even if he feared to disturb their piles by touching them with his shaking paws, he had Queenie by his side again, even after all these years apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps aging wasn't always such a horrible thing.</span>
</p>
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